Last Year's Wishes
by Air Guitar Pixie
Summary: After years studying to become a lawyer, Sam is thrilled to finally have his first case. That is, until the accused shows up. Because Sam knows who this is. And no matter what the papers all say, he knows his brother isn't guilty.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: _I know this prompt has kind of been ground into the ground, and that I _really_ shouldn't start another multi-chapter fic until Midnight Train is done, but...I couldn't help myself. I love this prompt. Enjoy!_

_-Jaq_

* * *

><p>"The only way to make it through with hearts and wrists intact is to realize that two out of three ain't bad." -<em>I'm Like A Lawyer The Way I'm Always Trying To Get You Of<em>f, Fall Out Boy

* * *

><p>"You'll be amazing, Sam," Jessica said, hugging him tightly. Stepping back, she critically adjusted his tie for the fourth time., her fingers lingering a second longer than necessary. "Trust me."<p>

Sam smiled nervously, looking down at his girlfriend, his eyes a little anxious. "I hope so."

It was November third. The day Sam had been waiting for for...well, months. Ever since that letter had come in the mail, he had been practically counting down the days.

And it was finally there. Today would decde Sam's future. He really had to stop thinking about it like that. _Just calm_ down, he told himself._ Deep breaths. _Having a panic attack, _now_, wouldn't do anything.

"Shoo!" Jess laughed. "You wanted to get out the door by 8:23; it's 8;24 now."

Sam glanced at his watch, and saw to his horror that Jess was correct. Flashing a dimple, he smiled nervously. "Bye, Jess," Sam said, biting his lip. He walked out of the door quickly, his hands feeling a little sweaty. Jess smiled back at him from the doorway, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet.

"Crush it, Sam!" She called, her smile lighting up her face.

Sam returned her smile, if only halfway. Nervous as he was, Jessica's enthusiasm was infectious.

The walk to the office seemed like the longest twenty minutes of his life. The entire time he was checking and doublechecking. Deoderant? Check. Breath mint (it didn't pay to have your interviewer's first impression of you be how much cream you put in your coffee)? Check. His résumé was sent in already. It was all going to be okay. More than okay. It was going to be great. The interview was at nine. It was 8:47. It was okay. It was _okay_.

Ten minutes later, Sam was seated in front of an imposing woman with a no-nonsense hairdo and an intense expression.

"Samuel Winchester," she stated, glancing at the young man from behind glasses.

"Yes ma'am. You can call me Sam," Sam said, praying she couldn't somehow sense his racing heart.

She made a noncommittal noise and leaned forward slightly. "So, Sam. Tell me why you want to be a lawyer..."

Three weeks later, a letter arrived at their apartment. A very official letter, marked _Stanford Law_ in big, red letters. Sam sat down, Jess hovering over him.

"Open it," she begged, her anticipation tangible.

Sam grimaced, trying not to get his hopes up.

_Samuel Winchester, we are delighted to inform you of your acceptance into Stanford Law..._

Sam didn't read anymore. Behind him, Jess gave out a shriek and hugged him from behind. Sam stood, tears (because men were definitely, totally allowed to cry, especially when they just got into Stanford Law School) marring his vision, and embraced Jess back. They stood there, crying, and Sam had never felt happier. Not ever.

As it turned out, being admitted to law school did not make one a lawyer. And it was hard, and long, and Sam often stayed up all night doing his homework.

In his free time, he shopped for rings. Jess had small hands, beautiful hands. And Sam wanted the perfect ring.

The years crawled by. Sam and Jess were engaged, but they kept putting their wedding off. Not while Sam was in law school and Jess was in medical school. Once they were done with school. But not just yet.

And before Sam knew it, he was studying for the bar exam. Months of studying, staying up until the wee hours, falling asleep with gigantic textbooks strewn about. All for one stupid test.

Which, he discovered three months later, he passed, with flying colors.

The only thing left was the background check, and honestly, it was what Sam had been most afraid of. Moving around every month since you were six months old isn't a great record.

Apparently, that didn't matter, though, and after only having to lie twice (and only then about his mother's death and how it happened), Sam was accepted. He was an attorney. A real, honest-to-God _lawyer_.

Jess wanted a spring wedding.

Sam agreed easily. May 8th, 2009. Please come to witness the union of Samuel Winchester and Jessica Moore...

Sam picked up his phone, scrolling through his contacts. Dean's number had been taken of speed dial years ago, but he still had it. Smiling, he dialed.

_We're sorry_, the cool, feminine voice replied. _this number is unavailable. It may be out of service, disused, or otherwise unavailable. You may try again later, or dial 411 for information. Have a nice day_.

Sam felt a twang of guilt. He hadn't _really _spoken to his brother in- what, going on seven or eight years now (that time last year Dean drunk-dialed him didn't count)? Time really did fly. He wondered vaguely if Dean was still hunting with their father.

But if Dean had ever wanted to get hold of him, it wasn't hard. So Sam didn't feel _too_ bad. After all, his brother hadn't tried to contact Sam either.

He still wanted to get in touch, though. Dean would be happy for him, right? He'd be excited that his little brother was getting married.

Well, Sam could call him again tomorrow, after his first case (and didn't that give him a thrill. First case!).

Sam adjusted his tie, grabbed his file and reviewed it one last time. It was a John Ridley. Multiple accounts of murder, credit card fraud, and theft. Sam had a very solid case against him. This would be simple- he could blow it out of the park. Sam knew that a lot of firms would be watching this. He was "promising," after all.

Giving Jess a quick goodbye kiss on the cheek, he smiled and walked out the door.

He sat on the bus reviewing the file. The accused had been caught with blood on his hands-literally- and a dead woman tied to a chair several feet away. It was gruesome, and Sam shuddered. He couldn't imagine what would make someone want to do that.

Checked his watch. 10:32. The trial didn't start until 11, but it never hurt to be early.

10:50. Sam greeted the public attorney who would be arguing for Ridley (and Sam pitied the man- how did one fight for the rights of a serial killer, rapist, and identity thief?) with a nod of the head and took his seat. He was nervous, but calm, too. He could do this. He had prepared, and this wasn't exactly a hard case.

10:55. The accused was brought out. Sam thought the man looked familiar, somehow, as he was ushered in.

And then he saw the accused from the front. No. No, this couldn't be happening. And he saw it in the prisoner's eyes, shock mixed with-could it be? Even now, pride- as he looked into the face of the man fighting for his indefinite jail-time (or, frankly, death).

"Hiya, Sammy," Dean mouthed, smirking. "Long time no see."

* * *

><p>AN 2: _To be continued...well, I hope that that wasn't too bad! It wouldn't kill you to leave a review, so...you should do that! A note on the song lyric: the two out of three are the wrists; your heart or trust may be broken but you're still here and that's what matters. I'll leave you with that! Thanks for reading :) _

_-Jaq_

_To whom it concerns: I will be updating Midnight Train tomorrow, have no fear. _


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: _Wow! That was a lot more feedback than I expected (but it was awesome)! Thanks to the twenty three people who alerted, the six people who favorited, and to BranchSuper, Beakers47, ShadowsDaughter, Jenna, VattaKeto, Frakking Toasters, Sharllissa, Little13Silence, sammysmissingshoe, and Guest for reviewing! You people make my day :)_

_A slight note: I hope none of my characters appear too OOC. I feel like, since Sam and Dean have been separated and living very different lives for almost eight years in this fic, that they wouldn't have quite the dynamic we're used to. That said, it isn't _that_ much different. Regardless, enjoy!_

_-Jaq_

* * *

><p>There was, of course, the obvious answer. The correct answer. The one that Stanford-bound law-abiding <em>normal<em> Sam Winchester would give.

Sam could tell the truth. Say honestly that the man standing before him was his brother, that he hadn't known because the man had used a pseudonym, and that, therefore, he could not perform this case.

It would be easy, and he'd probably impress everyone by being coolheaded and doing the right thing. Dean's trial could be rescheduled to a month later and some other lawyer could help sentence Sam's brother to death.

It would also be a terrible thing to do to the one person whom Sam cared about for the majority of his childhood and teenage years. Their father had been there too, but John had never been good with Sam, despite (or maybe because of) the fact that they had similar personalities. Dean had once described them as "two puzzle pieces that were so damn similar that they couldn't fit."

Sam had been livid about that, but it didn't matter anymore.

Dean was wearing that look, the smirk that some people fell for and others would kill to have, but Sam could see his eyes, and Dean was tired. He looked dead already- Sam could see at least two scars that had definitely not been a part of his brother six years ago- and guilt crashed over him.

How had he left Dean like that, without calling him or anything? How had he just packed up and left, seeing the hurt and betrayal and knowing full well what he was doing?

Sam swallowed, and his eyes traced the thin white line that marred his brother's face. It was new, and Sam wondered how Dean had gotten it. Ghost? Shapeshifter? The list went on.

"Your honor," Sam heard himself say to the judge, his voice steady, "request?"

The judge, an older woman with graying hairs and blue glasses, nodded crisply, looking down from her seat.

"I would like to request a private interview with the accused," Sam continued. He heard the confused muttering, but ignored it.

The judge frowned, a crease forming in between her eyes. She gave Sam a head tilt, but assented. "Of course," she said finally. "Out the door and to your left. The accused will need an escort."

Sam nodded his thanks and stood up, buttoning his jacket as he did so. He watched as Dean was roughly hauled up, his handcuffs making a jingling noise. Two guards, one on either side, walked him out of the spacious room and into the smaller conference room. Sam followed, watching as they secured Dean's handcuffs carefully to the table. As Sam entered, one of the guards stopped him. "Careful," the man said. "He's dangerous. Even restrained, don't touch him." Turning slightly, Sam saw a fading bruise on the man's cheek. The guard nodded, verifying Sam's thoughts, and exited.

Sam nodded politely and stepped into the room, taking the seat opposite his brother. It wasn't until after the guards had exited and the door was closed that Sam exploded.

"What the hell, Dean?" Sam asked, his sweaty fist clenching, leaning over the table and letting his hair fall into his face. He fixed Dean with a glare, imploring his brother to somehow explain the situation.

Dean just shrugged, not rising to the bait. "Look at you, Sammy, a lawyer. Just like you always wanted to be, huh?" He tugged uselessly at the handcuffs, staring at the table.

"How did you get caught?" Sam asked sharply, pushing his hair out of his face.

Dean glanced up, an odd look flitting across his face. "I didn't. They caught a shapeshifter that looked like me in Reno. Guess I didn't do the job well enough. Anyway, it escaped, and they caught me trying to kill it. Of course, it looked like some chick, and fed the cops a story, but..." Dean tugged again on the handcuffs, raising them above the tabletop. "You know the rest. Credit card fraud, the whole shebang."

Sam was silent, taking it in. He was relieved (of course, he never _really_ suspected his brother, but it was still a relief), but one thing was nagging him. Furrowing his brow, he gave Dean a look. "What about Dad?"

Dean shrugged, his eyes going blank and his posture tensing slightly. "What about him? He contacts me every once in a while. Sometimes we do jobs together."

"You know what I mean, dumbass. Why isn't he here? You got a phonecall, didn't you?" Sam's tone was indignant. It was their father's _job_ to do this sort of stuff. As a father, he should have been there for Dean.

"Yeah, I got a phonecall. Remember last year? Surprise, I wasn't drunk. Turns out, these things have a lot of complications. Took them almost a year to get it to general district court. There was evidence in one state, but possible charges in another, blah blah blah..."

"What the hell, Dean!" Sam repeated, putting his hands flat on the table. "I could have helped you! Dad could have helped you! And instead you just..." Sam gestured vaguely, "blow it off like it's nothing!"

Dean snorted. "Yeah. Like I was gonna somehow get off a charge for first degree murder, rape, credit card fraud...you name it, I'm being charged for it. Listen, Sammy. Remember what Dad used to say? He used to say-"

"Well Dad can go to hell for all I care," Sam growled. "I want to know why you didn't ask for help."

"-he used to say that the only thing worse than one victim was two victims," Dean continued as if he had never been interrupted. "You had school, Sam, Dad has the job...me, what have I got? If one of us is gonna get busted, at least it's me."

Sam clenched his jaw, his argument lost. "No, Dean," he started, but Dean's glance stopped him.

"Period. End of sentence."

Sam's shoulders slumped, and he sat down and leaned back in his chair. "I don't know how I'm going to get you off," he muttered. "I mean, I could really do a God-awful job, and hope the other lawyer found something to work with, but..."

Dean leaned in as far as his cuffs would allow, his tone serious. "You do it. You knock this case out of the park and become a great lawyer, okay?"

"You can't ask me to do that. You'll probably be killed," Sam continued, his voice betraying his fear.

Dean's shoulders tensed slightly, but he smiled. "It's gonna happen some day."

Sam's eyes flashed, and he stood up, towering over his seated brother. "Shut it, Dean," he said. "You aren't going to jail. Do you think you can take out the guards?"

Dean frowned. "I-what? Sam, they've got Tasers _and_ real guns. Also, I'm wanted. Dead or alive." He half-sang the Bon Jovi lyric, and Sam glared at him.

"We can do this. Here, I'll unlock you- use me as a shield, threaten to kill me unless you get away-" Sam's words flew out, his mind moving at a million miles per hour. "...we could do it. I've got a car, and Jess would understand, we we can _do _this, Dean!"

Dean glared at his brother. "The only thing worse than one victim," he started again, remaining infuriatingly calm, "is-"

He never finished. Sam punched him, hard, cutting off the sentence and splitting Dean's lip. Breathing hard, he continued his speech.

"I'm going to let you out. Punch me. Hard. You know how to punch people so that it's visible; do it. It'll look like we had a fight. You got out somehow, I tried to stop you, but you, being the hardened criminal, won. Simple."

"Simple." Dean repeated.

Sam glared, daring his brother to argue.

"Hey, it's a shot. But I don't want to ruin your life."

Sam gave an exasperated sigh. "I want to, Dean! We can go back to my place, pick up Jess, and go for a road trip or something."

"Who's Jess?"

"I'll tell you when you tell me what happened to your face."

"Some other time, then."

"So this is go?"

Dean gave Sam a wary look, and Sam was hit by just how old Dean looked. He guessed that's what happened when you hunted your entire life, but it was a little unsettling. "Unlock me, comrade," his brother said with a wink.

But when Sam turned away, Dean's façade crumbled.

* * *

><p>AN: _I'm gonna be frank here...I'm a little vague on where this story is going. Usually I have my stories all plotted out neatly, but this one...*nervous laughing* _

_Well, will they go through with their plan of escape? Or will it all fall apart? Review and tell me what you think! Reviews also motivate me to type up more chapters, soo...*wink*_

_Shameless self promotion: you should check out Midnight Train. I'm planning on updating that tomorrow._

_Thanks for reading and, as always, have a fantastic day!_

_-Jaq_


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: _Welcome back to the story! I want to apologize for another longish wait in between chapters. I don't really have an excuse, as I skipped school Wednesday (to drive to my grandmother's house) and had Thursday and Friday off too. In my defense, I was busy at my grandmother's, but...sigh. At last, here is chapter three. Before we begin, an enormous thank-you to everyone who's followed and favorited this work! Also thanks for adding me on the **Las mejores historias de Sam y Dean **community. I don't speak Spanish, so I had to look that name up :)_

_The biggest thanks goes out to soaring freedom, ShadowsDaughter, VattaKeto, Sharllissa, Missy Winchester, Beakers47, cyenthia 30, BranchSuper, sarah, Sara B, babyreaper, Jenna, and Charlie N Perfuro. You guys are so, so awesome. And 15 reviews breaks my previously 14 review record, so...giant shoutout to everyone, especially people who reviewed both(!) chapters. Love y'all :)_

_And onto the story! I've added a little bit of the last chapter, just to give a bit of a prequel. Thoughts on the idea? Enjoy!_

_-Jaq_

* * *

><p><em>"I'm going to let you out. Punch me. Hard. You know how to punch people so that it's visible; do it. It'll look like we had a fight. You got out somehow, I tried to stop you, but you, being the hardened criminal, won. Simple."<em>

_"Simple." Dean repeated._

_Sam glared, daring his brother to argue._

_"Hey, it's a shot. But I don't want to ruin your life."_

_"So this is go?"_

_Dean gave Sam a wary look, and Sam was hit by just how old Dean looked. He guessed that's what happened when you hunted your entire life, but it was a little unsettling. "Unlock me, comrade," his brother said with a wink._

_But when Sam turned away, Dean's façade crumbled._

* * *

><p>Sam quickly scanned the room, checking for security cameras. If they had sound, then their game was already up, but it was still worth it to check. None in the corners, no suspicious-looking equipment...Sam was pretty confident that the barren conference room was camera-free. Turning back to his brother, Sam's hands ghosted over the cuffs.<p>

They were pretty heavy-duty, with a lock at least three tumblers deep, but it was nothing Sam couldn't handle. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he pulled out his multitool-slash-pocketknife and walked over to Dean's side of the table. He didn't notice his brother's nervous glances; if he did he wasn't worried about them. After nearly three minutes, Dean was free.

Sam watched as Dean rubbed his wrists where the handcuffs had been, and frowned when he noticed bruises- both fresh and faded- barring the area. Dean noticed the glance and looked up, a grin flashing quickly. "A year in cuffs, Sammy. Apparently I'm..." he paused, thinking. "_Troublesome_, and in need of disciplinary action." Dean waggled his eyebrows in mock humor, but it was obvious that he wasn't happy about his year as an inmate.

"Yeah, whatever," Sam agreed at last. "So...what happened? I got angry, the Swiss Army knife fell out of my pocket, you...somehow...used it to pick the lock, then you hit me-make it look good, Dean-and then you escape- I'll cover you, you can hold the knife to my throat or whatever-and we go get Jess. Does that work?"

Dean paused, and Sam couldn't tell what his brother was thinking. "Yeah," he said finally. "Sounds like a plan."

"Great. So, uh-" Sam didn't get to finish his sentence before he was thrown to the floor by the force of his brother's hit. Dean winced, looking at him, but Sam would be okay. Dean had hit enough people to know that.

Sam wasn't dazed, as the plan had been, but out cold, a crumpled heap on the ground. Dean winced again. Even if it was necessary, he hated hitting his brother.

His own prison clothes were bright orange, and that's all anyone would expect to see him in. Turning to Sam, he sized up his brother. Sam was taller than him and broader than him, but maybe it wouldn't show that much. They weren't _that_ far off.

Deciding that now would _not_ be a good time for anyone to walk in, Dean carefully stripped his brother to his boxers. He winced again, reconsidering his plan. He could always just wait here, be taken away, prison for life, et caetara. It was worth it for Sammy to have his perfect life. Jess- who was she? Sam's girlfriend? For Dean to pull her and his brother into his life, steal all they had from them, would be unthinkable. No, it had to be this way. Sam got to have his dream job and his girl, and at best Dean got to run away from the law his entire life.

Donning Sam's clothes, Dean frowned. The pants were just a couple inches too long, and the jacket was baggy at his shoulders. Still, it would have to do. There was an ID card in Sam's clothes, and Dean could flash it to get away. As long as his finger was over the picture slightly, nobody would notice.

Glancing out first to make sure nobody was in the hallway, Dean walked out, assuming an indifferent, businesslike manner. He was almost at the exit when he was stopped.

"Sir? You're not supposed to leave until the trial's finished."

Dean glanced sharply at the young man who had addressed him- a gangly boy in his mid twenties.

"Just got a phonecall," Dean lied, staring at the boy. "My wife's going into labor." He held up Sam's ID quickly. "Goodbye," he added, walking out the door.

Once outside, Dean was presented with a plethora of car choices. His own car was at Bobby Singer's, assuming whomever had found it had taken it to the licensed owner, and he couldn't wait to drive her again.

He chose an off-white old Cadillac. It was enormous, and ugly, but it wouldn't be that conspicuous and was less likely to have a sophisticated alarm system. Within minutes, it was hotwired, and he was driving away, free at last.

-:-

Sam woke up on the floor almost completely naked and the first thing he did was panic. He sat straight up, which made his head hurt, and he gingerly touched the bruise on the left side of his head. It came away without blood, but he could feel the puffiness that accompanied a lump beginning.

Dean obviously hadn't stuck to the plan. His brother's own plan had somehow included the majority of Sam's clothes, as well as Sam's ID and wallet. His cellphone was resting on the table, presumably so that Dean couldn't be tracked with it.

Sam was mad. Furious, even. If he had helped Dean escape, he could have made sure that Dean 'died.' He could have done _something_, at least, but now Dean was a fugitive, and knowing his luck Dean wouldn't last a year.

Sam knew what they did for escaped criminals of Dean's caliber. There would be picture references, fingerprint checks- anything that could catch him on camera would be looked at. They could figure out Dean's car choice, and work out his patterns, warn cops across the nation...it wasn't hard.

Sam sighed. Well. He couldn't very well just walk back to the courtroom in his boxers. And he could give Dean a little more of a head start. Lying back down on the ground, angry being an understatement, he attempted to fall asleep.

-:-

Dean drove all night, due east from California. He stopped for gas in Nevada, and reflected on the necessity for both new clothes and a new car. Well. He pulled out Sam's wallet. There was about fifty bucks in it- Sam was living in _style_- and there was a store nearby. Fifty bucks wouldn't get him much more than the bare necessities clothing-wise, but he could stop at a bar, hustle pool, the works.

And he really needed to ditch the car. Every second he drove it was another second the police could find him with it. He could leave it on the side of the road and replace it with one at that bar he was going to. Overall, he wasn't concerned. Dean could fly under the radar just fine.

-:-

Sam woke the second time to somebody shaking him.

"Oh my God," a man was saying. "I let him _out_, I let him _escape_, I had no idea..."

Sam opened his eyes to see several people in the room. The speaker, a young, lean man, was running his hand through his shock of black hair and nervously pacing. When Sam opened his eyes he immediately ran to him.

"Are you okay? It's all my fault, I let him out, I have a Taser, I could have- _dammit,_ what have I done?"

Another man, a burly bald man with thick fingers, held onto Sam's shoulder to prevent the young man from rising. "Tell us exactly what happened, sir," the man said in a deep voice.

Sam swallowed. Best to go with the story he and Dean had rehearsed. "I was...I was angry with the accused," Sam mumbled.

"Speak clearly."

Sam nodded. "I was angry with the accused. I leaned over and my Swiss Army knife fell out of my jacket pocket-"

"Your breast pocket?"

"Yes, sir. And he-the accused- leaned over and used his head to pull the knife towards him. I don't know how, but he somehow undid the cuffs. I was going to shout, call for security, but he threatened me with the knife. I was afraid. Then..." Sam grimaced. "He hit me. Next thing I know, I'm being shaken awake by you."

The man nodded, his face devoid of emotion. "You'll be taken to a hospital," he said. "They will assess your injuries there."

* * *

><p>AN 2: _Up next chapter__: Sam is suspected of helping Dean escape. Lots of annoying legal procedures and another appearance from Jess, who I promise will be getting a lot more screen time (page time?) in the next few chapters. Possibly a cameo from Bobby Singer. _

_Well, did you enjoy? I hope you all were satisfied with the way things panned out...Dean would _never_ want to risk Sam's prolonged happiness by involving him too much in his own escape, for sure. If you enjoyed, please do me a favor and drop a review? They're phenomenal and make my day. Plus, more reviews make it that much more likely to get a chapter up sooner! As I'm not writing ahead like most stories, this is especially prevalent. Thanks for reading, regardless of whether you leave a comment or not. Have a super day!_

_-Jaq_


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: _Thank you all so much! Thanks to Sharllissa, Beakers47, grishma239, VattaKeto, Jenna, Missy Winchester, sarah, Sara B, BranchSuper, Qbbie, and Guest for reviewing! _

_Note on the text: remember, it takes _time _to become a lawyer. This story takes place in 2008, so it is entirely possible for Jess to have an iPhone first generation. They came out in 2007, and went down in price significantly by 2008. :)_

_It seemed like the quick refresher was a win, so I'll be doing that from now on. Enjoy!  
>-Jaq<em>

* * *

><p><em>"Tell us exactly what happened, sir," the man said in a deep voice.<em>

_Sam swallowed. Best to go with the story he and Dean had rehearsed. "I was...I was angry with the accused," Sam mumbled._

_"Speak clearly."_

_Sam nodded. "I was angry with the accused. I leaned over and my Swiss Army knife fell out of my jacket pocket-"_

_"Your breast pocket?"_

_"Yes, sir. And he-the accused- leaned over and used his head to pull the knife towards him. I don't know how, but he somehow undid the cuffs. I was going to shout, call for security, but he threatened me with the knife. I was afraid. Then..." Sam grimaced. "He hit me. Next thing I know, I'm being shaken awake by you."_

_The man nodded, his face devoid of emotion. "You'll be taken to a hospital," he said. "They will assess your injuries there."_

* * *

><p>As soon as questions were answered, the press was satisfied, a doctor had examined Sam's injuries, and Sam had obtained clothes, he hailed a cab and went directly home. He was met on the doorstep by Jess, who ushered him in with a worried expression.<p>

"What happened?" Jess exclaimed, her eyes wide. She walked through their kitchenette and sat down at the table, where a newspaper, a mobile phone, and a half-full cup of coffee sat at her place.

Sam sat down heavily across from her. "It's...complicated." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, thinking absentmindedly that the haircut he had gotten yesterday in preparation for the morning was a little shorter than he wanted.

Jess sat up, giving Sam a face. "That's why I asked. Complicated how?"

Sam was torn. He could either tell Jess the truth, and face the consequences, or he could lie, _again, _and face those consequences. He almost laughed. He was a lawyer now, for real, and he was considering lying to his fiancee. Nice one, Winchester._  
><em>

"I...the accused wasn't guilty," Sam said evasively.

Jess' eyebrows shot up. "I just read a summary that said that the accused not only escaped, but he beat you unconscious and..." she glanced back down at the screen of her phone. "...'stole your clothes and wallet and exited the premises wearing them?'"

Sam swallowed and looked away in embarrassment. "...Yeah."

"So why are you defending him?" Jess' eyes suddenly became fearful. "He didn't..._threaten_ you, right?" Her voice was anxious, and she glanced around. "I won't tell anyone. Sam, we can do this. But you have to tell me."

Sam sighed. Dammit. "He's my brother."

The weight of his words sank into the room for a few seconds while Jess collected her thoughts. "He may be your brother," she said at last, "but he's still a criminal. I can understand why you wouldn't want to speak against him, however." She paused and frowned. "Isn't there a law against that, anyway? The lawyer and jury can't have any relation to the accused?"

"There is. He used a false ID. I didn't know until he stepped into the courtroom. But Jess, it's not just that he's my brother. I..._know_ he isn't guilty. He practically raised me when we were kids, and I never..." Sam shook his head. "He wouldn't do it."

"He was caught red handed, Sam. You told me, remember? You were relieved that your first case was obvious."

_Dammit._ "Jess...okay. Let's start over. I've never really told you about my past, right?"

Jess nodded, accepting the slight switch of subject without commenting. She wrapped her slim hands around her coffee and took a sip.

Sam looked a little to her left. "I...my family...we hunt...things."

"Things like...animals?" Jess asked uncertainly. She was a vegetarian, and it made sense...sort of...that Sam wouldn't tell her, but she wasn't _ that _upset by it. She knew people hunted.

Sam sighed again and shook his head. "Things like ghosts. Demons, shapeshifters...Dad took down a werewolf once, with a buddy, but that was before I was allowed to join them...I've hunted a wendigo a couple of times..." He paused, looking at Jess' reaction.

His fiancee was looking at him concernedly. Her eyebrows were furrowed, and her eyes pinched at the end. She had bitten her lip slightly. "...Sam?" she asked after a pause. "Are you...Sam, let's call a doctor."

"No, Jess. I'm not hallucinating, or have an overactive imagination, or going crazy. You have to trust me."

Jess shook her head. "Sam, I don't believe in things I can't see. Prove that ghosts exist and I'll join you in your train to crazytown, but until then..." she sighed. "Let's just call a doctor. The whole case has put a ton of stress on you, it's only normal..."

Sam let out a sharp, breathy laugh. "Normal? No, I'm pretty sure that 'normal' is the one thing it's not. Okay." He thought. "Remember a few years ago, on November first?"

Jess frowned. "November first, as in, the night our apartment burned down? Sam, are you trying to tell me that a _ ghost_ burned it down?"

"Not a ghost. A demon." Sam smiled bitterly. "I found sulfur, which is left behind when a demon has been in a place. I guess it's a good thing you drove to the library to pick me up, or you would have been home with it."

"So what you're saying is that the night before your interview, when you were studying at the library, and I drove down to pick you up because I decided you needed more than five hours of sleep, a _demon_ broke into our apartment and set it on fire? Sam, that doesn't make any sense. At _ all_."_  
><em>

"I know it doesn't. This is a lot to take in. Promise me this, okay: I'll find some way to prove that monsters exist, alright, and then you can decide for yourself. If you decide they aren't, you can take me to a doctor and have them run all the tests you want. But I promise you, I'm perfectly sane."

Jess, seeing that it was the best offer she would get, grudgingly nodded. "Alright." She paused. "What did all of that have to do with your brother?"

"It wasn't him that did all that stuff, Jess. It was a shapeshifter that _ looked_ like him. DNA tests and everything passed, but it wasn't him. He told me."

"And you believed him?"

Sam shrugged. "It's not the most incredulous thing that's happened to my family."

"You helped him escape." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. "You didn't know if he was guilty or not, and you threw your job into jeopardy to help him escape."

Sam bristled slightly. "Yeah, I did. Well, I had planned it a different way, but...yeah. I helped him. So?"

"Sam, I don't believe all this ghosts and demons crap, alright, but how are the authorities going to see this? They'll figure it out, _ somehow_, and then what?"_  
><em>

"I don't know! But I couldn't just leave him there, Jess!" Sam calmed down slightly. "I'd do the same for you! He's my _ brother_."

Jess' shoulders sagged. "I know. I'm just not sure that it was the best idea."

-:-

Dean walked into the bar, freshly dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and a plaid flannel. He would have preferred a jacket as well, but he'd already had to steal it all and there wasn't _t__hat_ much room under Sam's clothes. He still had about fifty dollars, and it was plenty to hustle enough money to buy gas to get to South Dakota. Walking over to the pool table, he surveyed the scene.

Two men were playing. One had a beer belly, little hair, and was smoking a cigarette. The other was shorter, with broad shoulders and a tattoo on his arm that read "Lindsay." Dean wondered who Lindsay was, but he'd learned that it was best not to ask in that situation. He watched the game. Neither man was _amazing_, but they weren't bad. _  
><em>

As Dean watched, Beer Belly scratched, hitting the cue ball into a pocket. He swore loudly, and the small crowd roared. Grinning with triumph, Lindsay Tattoo shot at the last remaining striped ball and it landed in the side pocket with a satisfying _ plop_. He carefully lined up the shot, and the 8 ball rolled neatly into the opposite pocket. Swearing vehemently, Beer Belly yanked out his wallet. Carefully, the man counted out money and slammed it onto the table with a glare towards Lindsay Tattoo, who grinned smugly.

"Any challengers?" Lindsay Tattoo said, adopting the manner of some sort of untouchable champion. Dean waited, and then spoke.

"Sure," he said, giving an easy grin. "Twenty?"

Lindsay Tattoo raised his bushy eyebrows. "Twenty? Sure, I'll go for twenty." He smirked. "You sure?"

Dean nodded quickly, keeping his eyes earnest. "Sure! You can go first."

"I'll break, sure."

Dean watched as the man lined up the pool balls. Removing the wooden triangle, he placed the dirty white cue ball across from them.

An hour later, Dean was two hundred bucks richer and getting the hell out of a bad situation. Turns out, Lindsay Tattoo didn't like losing. At all. Dean had taken the money and ran, literally.

He glanced at Sam's watch. It was just after one AM. If he got his ass in gear, he could make it to Bobby's by tomorrow at the same time.

-:-

The next day was Saturday. Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, Sam was sitting next to Jess on their small sofa, watching a movie.

There was a loud rap on the door. Sam stood and walked over to it, throwing Jess a questioning glance. In return, she shrugged, but Sam caught a note of suspicion in her eye.

He walked over and looked through the peephole. A woman in a ponytail stood there, dressed in uniform. Sam opened the door several inches.

"Hello?"

"Sam Winchester?" the woman asked, not unkindly.

Sam nodded, but didn't open the door any wider. "What do you want?"

"You are asked to report for questioning about the escape of John Ridley." She paused. "There is probable cause as to your involvement. This is not an accusation or an indictment. However, if you do not go peacefully, the usage of force is authorized."

Sam sighed. "When?"

"Immediately."

"Give me a minute."

She nodded, and Sam walked back into the kitchenette/living area. He left the door cracked so that the policewoman could see him.

Jess looked up, her suspicions confirmed. "Is it-"

"I'm being taken in for questioning. It's nothing serious, but I'll be a while."

Jess pursed her lips, but nodded. "Well, I guess 'good luck' isn't the appropriate response."

Sam shook his head. "I'll see you in a bit."

Sam quirked a smile, met Jess for a quick, chaste kiss, and walked out.

-:-

The next day, Dean pulled into Singer Salvage. He was dead-tired, and hadn't taken a shower in several days. Slamming the car door shut, he walked up to the front door and knocked.

There was a pause, and then the door was yanked open and Dean's face was suddenly covered in water. Closing his eyes and spitting water out of his mouth, his hands clenched into fists. "Dammit, Bobby, I am pissed as hell, tired as hell, and human as hell. Let me in."

"That the way to treat someone you haven't seen in over a year?" came the grumpy reply. Dean opened his eyes to see an older man, wearing a t-shirt, jeans, a baseball cap, and a frown.

Dean smiled flatly. "I was in jail."

Bobby's eyebrows raised. "That so? Well I'll be damned. They finally caught the great Dean Winchester."

"Can it, Bobby. Do you have my car?"

"I might."

Dean sighed, trying to keep his temper. He'd met with Bobby a couple times over the last several years after Sam went to college, but he always forgot how ornery the man was. "Well, it'd be nice if I could see her."

"It'd be nice if you showered first," Bobby muttered, throwing the door open. "You want a beer?"

Dean smiled genuinely at the place. "Yeah, that'd be great."

An hour, a beer, and a shower later, Dean was explaining his last year to Bobby. He finished, leaning back in his chair.

"I think you should call Sam," was Bobby's response after a pause.

"Sam? Why? I'm stayin' out of the kid's life, Bobby. For good this time."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "He's gonna be worried about you, idjit. Trust me."_  
><em>

Dean slid his eyes evasively. "I...I don't have his number."

"You got his cellphone?"

Dean frowned. "No. I didn't want it to be tracked."

"Fine. I got his landline."

"How'd you get that?" Dean asked, surprised. "I never gave it to you."

Bobby gave Dean a knowing look. "I have my ways. Trust me."

"Okay."

Bobby walked over and picked up one of his many phones, the one that had a taped-on label reading "untraceable." He dialed a number off of a list, and gave it to Dean.

Dean took a deep breath as the call connected.

"Hello?"

"Who is this?" came a female voice. "If you're looking for Sam, he's...out."

* * *

><p>AN 2: _Well...Dean meets Jess...turns out I ditched the legal procedures, so apologies to anyone looking forward to that. Please leave a review, it shows you care!_

_Have a fantastic day. _

_-Jaq_


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: _You are actually the most fabulous people ever! Thank all of you so much for the amazing reviews, follows, and favorites. This is such a fun story to write, and I actually made a plot for it (yay). So that's good. Can we just talk about Jess for a second? I love Jess. She's awesome. Seriously. So awesome. Anyway, what's going on is that nothing in this chapter is irrelevant, even though it may seem like it, and this is in fact a very necessary chapter, though the action isn't as much as it could be. Thanks so much to Beakers47, Sharllissa, Qbbie, VattaKeto, Guest, PriyaWinchester, Jules, sarah, BranchSuper, Jenna, and SupernaturalFiend for reviewing! _

**Something to be aware of: **

**I have received a private message from someone called theresabain. It goes as such:**

_Dear Air Guitar Pixie,_

_I was reading 'Last Year's Wishes' and I really like it! Thanks a lot for writing such a great story! :-)_

_Me and two other FF friends recently created a high-quality fanfiction site where only selected writers can publish their stories. The site is called Inkitt and I would love to invite you to publish your works._

_Please use this link as your invitation to sign up: .com [slash] 8b1a9953g_

_Once you login, you can use the import tool and automatically import stories from FF with 3 clicks ;-)_

_Have a great day!_

_Cheers_  
><em>Theresa<em>

**This is a spam message. DO NOT go to the link. I've talked to other people who've received the same message, and I myself have received the same type of message before. They're fake. Don't go to the so-called site, I checked and my virus scanner detected malware. Just a PSA!**

_And now onto your regularly scheduled story! Enjoy._

_-Jaq_

* * *

><p>Jess sat at the kitchen table, a binder full of papers strewn about. Sam had been gone for more than an hour, and she was trying to get some of her work done for pathology. Histograms full of wavering heart tremors filled each paper, and Jess wrote explanations detailing what was happening. It was complicated, but Jess was going to become a doctor, and it was necessary.<p>

The phone rang suddenly, its shrill dinging startling Jess out of her reverie. Glancing at the caller ID, she frowned at the unknown number. Shrugging, she picked it up anyway. "Hello? If you're looking for Sam, he's...not here."

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other line. "Not there? Who is this?"

"I'm Jess, his fiancee. Who are you?" she asked, suspicion creeping into her voice.

There was a pause, and muffled voices on the other line, like a hand had been placed over the phone. "I'm Dean. Sam will know who I am. When will he be back?"

"I don't know," Jess said truthfully, annoyed at the man's tone. "I'm not an answering machine, and I'm not responsible for him. Want to try again? Who are you?"

A frustrated sigh emanated from the phone, and Jess glanced at her watch. It was almost five o'clock. She had an appointment at the clinic for her internship at six. But whoever the unknown caller was, she was determined to figure it out before she got ready.

"I can't tell you. Just tell Sam that Dean called." The call clicked, and with indignation Jess realized the caller had hung up. She frowned, staring at the phone for several seconds before turning back to the histograms. She couldn't concentrate on them as much, however, and found herself wondering what the strange "Dean" was to Sam. A thought flitted through her mind for a second, but she dismissed it. Dean wasn't Sam's brother. Sam's brother was a convicted murderer, rapist, and thief, to name a couple. He wouldn't call his brother after using him to escape, would he? He would want to get away as fast as possible. Still, the thought wouldn't go away.

-:-

The man who questioned Sam was nearly as tall as he was, with short hair and an earring. He had close-set eyes, and a chiseled jaw, and combined with his perfectly-fitting suit, he cut a very imposing figure. Sam wasn't daunted.

"You say John Ridley grabbed your knife from the table, somehow unlocked his cuffs, _without_ you noticing, and then hit you?" He asked again in his deep voice.

Sam nodded, not speaking at all unless it was necessary.

"What kind of knife was this?"

"A red Swiss Army Knife. It had...two knives, a shorter one and a pocketknife, tweezers, a key ring, a reamer, a toothpick, and a screwdriver." Sam felt a slight itch on his nose, but he didn't scratch it. He knew from experience that it just made him look guilty. It was best just to stay calm.

"How did Ridley "grab" this knife?"

"I looked away, and he leaned over and pulled it to him using his head. From there on he had it in his hands, and I couldn't get it back. I don't know how he picked the lock, but I wasn't about to approach him while he had my knife."

The man nodded, showing no emotion. "And the reason you didn't immediately run out and let somebody deal with it?"

Sam gave a sheepish look, playing the role. "I...it was my first case, and I didn't want anything to go wrong. He had a knife, and I just panicked. I couldn't move." He swallowed, giving an earnest glance.

The man didn't betray any emotion of his own, merely grunted.

"There will be an investigation conducted to ensure that you did not help Ridley escape. You are not going to be detained, however you will not be allowed to continue work. You will be on paid leave. Do you understand?"

Sam nodded, his shoulders sagging slightly in relief. After almost two hours of questioning, he was irritable and just wanted to get home.

He left, and arrived at his and Jess' apartment at 5:45. His fiancee greeted him at the door.

"Sam! That took a while," she said, nervousness written across her face. "I have to go, but before I do..." she pointed at the landline. "A guy called our house. He said his name was Dean. There wasn't a caller ID, no way to recognize him, but he said you'd know him. Do you?"

Sam's faced drained, his shoulders slumping more. "Dean...it's complicated. Look, I'll tell you when you get back from the clinic, okay?"

Jess looked as if she was about to argue, but she nodded instead. "Alright. Love you, see you in a couple hours."

She watched as Sam walked further into their apartment, and wondered what he was going to do. The entire situation was bad. She didn't know who Dean was, but if Sam kept his promise (and she knew he would), she would.

The clinic was a little ways away, far enough that she had to take the bus. The trip took several minutes, and she checked her watch. 5:56. Barely on time. Hurrying inside, she arrived and put her bag in her locker, tying her hair into a bun.

She was an intern to Dr. Lena Johnson, in the intensive care unit.

First, they checked on a young woman who had been in a car crash. Elsa Konizowski was twenty three and had graduated the previous year from University of North Carolina. Jess checked her blood pressure, made sure her levels were right and that her breathing pump worked correctly.

"Hey!" Jess said brightly, realizing her patient was awake. "How are you?"

Elsa (or, as she preferred, El) smiled, nodding. As a result of her head injury, she had developed aphasia, or the loss of the ability to speak. She could smile, nod, and even sign a little bit with the hand that wasn't swathed in bandages, but without the aid of a speech therapist, it was unlikely she would be able to speak for several years at least.

She was chatting (well, as much as she could) with El about college. El wanted to be a journalist, and was optimistic about her chances of still becoming one. Suddenly, sirens went off. Jess left, hurriedly following Dr. Johnson to the ER.

"Micheal Foster, adult male, nineteen, blood pressure's 75/60 and dropping! GSW to the right abdomen, possible internal bleeding," a paramedic shouted clearly, helping wheel the man into the room.

Jess hurried around, falling into rhythm with the other doctors working on the man. "Saline IV, quick!" Johnson said to Jess. She nodded, hurrying over to where several sterile intravenous bags lay. Double-checking the label, she brought the correct bag. The intravenous was already hooked up through the patient's left hand, and a catheter was attached to monitor the patient's urine output.

She attached the IV bag and hung it on a stand, stepping back. Dr. Johnson looked at her approvingly. "He needs surgery," the doctor said. "That's not our unit. The GSW will need to be reported to the police, and we need to make sure he stays isotonic. Other than that, there's not much we can do."

Jess nodded, leaving the room for more saline.

-:-

Sam swallowed hard. Dean had called. From Bobby's, probably. It was the only thing he could think of, at least. Picking up the phone, he opened up Jess' laptop and typed in _Singer Salvage._ Several results popped up, but Sam knew which one he wanted. There was a phone number listed, and he dialed. _  
><em>

It toned for several seconds before picking up. A gruff voice answered on the other line. "Hello?"

Sam hadn't heard the voice in years, but he still recognized it. "Bobby?"

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other line. "Sam? Hell, boy, I haven't talked to you in years. Hold on, I'm putting you on speaker. _Dean Winchester, get your ass over here, your brother's on the phone._"

Sam clenched his jaw as silence fell on the line. Then-

"Hey, Sam, about yesterday..."

"_Dean_." Sam couldn't decide if he should be angry or relieved that Dean was at Bobby's. "How-"

"Long story," came his brother's haggard voice. "But I should start from the beginning. When you left for Stanford, Dad threw a fit..."

* * *

><p>AN: _Okay, the next chapter is my favorite so far. Most of it is a flashback to Dean's years without Sam, which I know several of you have been looking forward to. Please leave a review, they show me you care and are interested in this story! Plus, reviews make me type faster and post sooner. Have a fantastic day!_

_-Jaq_


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: _Hey there! I want to apologize for not updating earlier. I know I promised I would, but I've been spending a lot more time focusing on other things, and this sort of slipped. I promise I won't abandon this, however. Anyway, thanks so much to Sharllissa, Beakers47, Sara B, VattaKeto, Lisa Boon, BranchSuper, Missy Winchester, and Jenna for reviewing. I hope you all haven't forgotten that this exists! Enjoy. _

_-Jaq_

* * *

><p>"<em>Dean<em>." Sam couldn't decide if he should be angry or relieved that Dean was at Bobby's. "How-"

"Long story," came his brother's haggard voice. "But I should start from the beginning. When you left for Stanford, Dad threw a fit..."

* * *

><p><em>Dean watched as the bus with Sam on it rolled away to California. Shoulders slumping slightly, he climbed back into the Impala. ACDC's "For Those About to Rock" was blasting, and Dean shut it off. He didn't need music right now. He didn't need much of anything right now, to be honest. Nothing except Sam. _

_The drive back took all of ten minutes, and when he got back John was pissed. _

_"There's a werewolf in Nevada. Pack up, we're leaving," was his father's only response to Dean informing him that Sam was safely on the bus. Dean hadn't argued (that was Sam's job), he had just obeyed, packing up what little he had into his duffel bag and running it out to the backseat of the Impala. He could have put it in the passenger seat, but that was Sam's seat, and it was harder than he would've liked to admit, letting his little brother go. _

_They drove to the place in Nevada in six hours, Dean following John's truck. The werewolf hunt was simple, and the next hunt, and the next. But it was harder than it should've been. Sam was the researcher, and without him it was up to Dean and John. Neither man had a lot of patience for that sort of thing, and it wore down nerves quickly. Once, they went two days without speaking because each had thought the other was on library duty. _

_Sooner than later, it was June. That first vacation, Dean was sure that Sam was going to come find him. Positive. But Dean didn't want to annoy his little brother, so instead of dropping in on him, he called._

_Well, he left a message. Sam called him back the next day, and they talked for almost an hour. But then Sam had to go out with his friends, and Dean wasn't going to press him. _

_The next call was several months later. And then, a year. And then, Dean just didn't bother. He was happy that Sam was happy without him. _

_Meanwhile, Dean had begun to go on more solo hunts. His father trusted him, and Dean kind of liked being alone. It would have been better with Sam, of course, but it wasn't a big deal. Sam was at college getting a law degree, Dean and their dad were saving lives. Everyday family drama._

_Sometimes Dean worked with other hunters, but most often not. He would text or call his dad every month or two, but the two had mainly split ways. Dean wasn't heartbroken over it. If nobody wanted him, that was his problem and he could damn well stay alone. Besides, it was easier to bring home girls when you didn't have to tell your father. _

_It had all gone bad about six years after Sam left. Dean was hunting a shapeshifter in Washington State when it got away and crossed state lines, into California. The shapeshifter, masquerading as Dean, had killed three women after raping and torturing them. Then, it was caught. _

_While it was in the police station, it had escaped, and Dean had picked up its trail. Unfortunately, so had the police. Dean was stabbing it in the heart with a silver knife when the police had burst in. Of course, the shapeshifter was then in the guise of a young woman, and Dean had been forced to come with. He now had charges of escape, police assault, and credit card fraud on his account as well as first-degree murder and assault. _

_They told him he got one phone call. Dean had thought about it long and hard. He could call his dad, who couldn't do anything to help, or he could call Sam, who couldn't do anything to help _and _would probably feel guilty about the whole thing, try and barge in and stop it. _

_Dean had an idea. Dialing Sam's number (he shouldn't have known it by heart, they hadn't called in a year, but old habits die hard), he had put on the guise of being drunk. After only a minute, Sam had told him to take some Tylenol and go to sleep, and had hung up. Dean sighed. Those were more than likely the last words he would ever say to his brother,but at least Sam would never know. Den would forever be a bad memory, and Sam could go on and become a lawyer, advocating for those who couldn't. It was a fitting career for his brother. _

_As it turns out, it's a lot more complicated than it would appear to get on trial. They held him shortly without a warrant while they searched for previous warrants (and thank goodness his alibi stood up, because Dean had several of those from other jobs), but the real waiting began after that. The lawyer appointed to Dean's case was a young woman who clearly wasn't buying Dean's story at all. She didn't say it to his face, but it was obvious. _

_After his initial court hearing, a later date was scheduled. However, just before that date, more complications erupted. _

_Dean had supposedly committed crimes in several states. "John Ridley" was a citizen of California (and that was the only good break Dean got), however, and the state chose to exercise criminal jurisdiction and keep the case in the state district courts. This, of course, meant more waiting. _

_All in all, Dean waited for over a year. Then, of course, he walked into the courtroom and saw Sam. End of story. Boom. _

_-:-_

Sam sat in stunned silence as Dean recounted his story. He had given some thought to what his brother had been up to, but nothing major. And to think that his brother had been through all _that..._

"I'm...sorry," he said at last, unsure of what to say.

Dean didn't answer, and Sam sighed. "They think I had something to do with your escape," he admitted, absentmindedly tapping his fingers on the table before him.

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other line, and Sam heard a muttered curse. "No. Why? I- I friggin' knocked you out! There's no way."

"It's not a big deal-"

"Hell, yes, it's a big deal, Sam!" Dean exclaimed, and Sam could picture his brother running his hands through his hair and turning from wherever he was standing. "They- I'm a wanted criminal, and for some pretty big crimes, too, this could ruin your career!"

"Look. I can handle it, okay?" Sam said, wishing he had never told his brother about the whole incident. "It isn't like they have any hard evidence. They need a warrant to search or seize me; so far I've only gone with them willingly. Okay? It's not a big deal."

Dean didn't answer, and Sam rolled his eyes. He didn't admit it, but this was one of the reasons he had left for college in the first place. Dean was just too overbearing, convinced that he could get rid of all of Sam's problems for him.

"What are you going to do?" Sam asked, trying to relieve the tension slightly.

Dean sighed. "Hunt. Stay alive. The works." He gave a dry laugh that didn't really convey any humor.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. "Hold on, Dean."

Sam walked over to the door, opening it to Jess and smiling. "Hey, babe," he said, smiling and a little surprised to see his fiancee.

"Who's on the phone?" Jess asked, after giving Sam a quick hug. She let down her blonde hair from it's ponytail, letting it fall loose about her face.

Sam paused, almost imperceptibly. "Dean."

Jess' eyebrows raised, and as she set her bag down she glanced at the phone. "Care to elaborate? Or tell him that next time he's that rude on the phone, he can kiss my ass before I bother answering?"

"That's my brother."

"The ghostbusting brother?" Jess asked, more than slightly on edge. After being yelled at by an overweight, inconsiderate man for about ten minutes at the hospital, she was almost on her last nerve.

Sam nodded. Into the phone, he said, "hey, Dean. So, uh. I'm going to put you on speakerphone. This is Jess, my fiancee."

Dean responded as Sam clicked the speakerphone button. "Fiancee? I never thought- well, Jess, whoever you are, what made you settle for Sam?"

"_Dean_," Sam gritted, a warning.

"Sorry, sorry. So, Jess, I take it Sam hasn't given you the rundown on what we do?"

"You kill ghosts?" Jess replied, sarcasm dripping off her tone.

"Spot-on. So anyway, no, I did not kill all those people. Although if you chose to believe that, you're in the majority and I'm not going to waste breath trying to argue with you. Sam tells me he's being questioned because he aided my escape?"

Sighing, Jess said, "yeah."

"Well, that's fantastic. I gotta go, now. Nice talking to you."

The phone clicked, and Sam set it down.

"What's that?"

"Hm?" Sam said, looking up at Jess with eyebrows raised.

"Hold on. I think- I think I saw something." Opening the bottom drawer, she pulled out a screwdriver. Returning, she unscrewed the front plate on the phone.

"Jess, what are you doing?"

As she finished, she took it off, and with delicate fingers, she prodded until she found what she wanted. Frowning at her fiance, she plucked out a small electronic device. "It's a bug."

Sam's eyes widened. "There's no way - that's illegal-"

"Well, I'd say it's still evidence to put both of us in jail, isn't it?" Jess said, sighing.

Sam ran a hand through his hair, horrified. "We have to go."

"Where?"

"I've got a friend in South Dakota," Sam replied.

* * *

><p>AN: _And next chapter, we finally get the trio all together. Thanks ever so much for sticking with me, and if you can spare a minute, please leave a review to let me know you're still interested in this story! Thanks a lot.  
><em>

_-Jaq_


End file.
